Prior to sinking into the cold depths I had been admiring the rocks decorating the shores of the lake. I leaped from my boat to swim ashore and spend the sunny afternoon collecting rocks.
I gathered the smoothest and most colorful red and white rocks by putting them into my child-sized wetsuit. I was limited on how many rocks I could carry against my body but I was determined to pack the wetsuit with as many rocks as possible so I could share with others the treasure I'd collected.
It took some time until I was satisfied with my collection and content with returning to the boat. I stepped carefully along the shore and out onto the rocky peninsula to get as close to the boat as possible before having to make the swim.
I waved to my family that sat merrily upon the aquatic vessel and I leaped forward from the rocks into the water and began swimming.
The swimming was immediately followed by sinking. My substantial collection of attractive rocks would be my great downfall as I fought to return to the surface in a futile effort to overpower the weight dragging me down.
Finally my greed gave way to my desire to not drown for some rocks. I opened my wetsuit and let the rocks pour into the depths of the lake, allowing me to return to the surface. By the time I returned to my boat I had regrettably lost the majority of my treasure.
The few rocks remaining had settled into the lap of my wetsuit and were forgotten soon enough anyhow. My attention refocused on a photograph my parents were requesting, of me standing on the bow of the boat...
The picture, that my parents still have on display in the den, is pleasant enough if not for the rocks jutting from my wetsuit, granting the appearance of a set of balls and a horrific shaft that no child of 8 years old should be entitled to.
Admittedly much worse is that my parents insist there were no rocks within my swimming attire and that I simply had not yet grown into my (evidently disproportionately monstrous) genitals yet.
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